Keeping A Legacy
by Inkwell Quill
Summary: It started as a normal Saturday morning, filled with laughter and chocolate chip cookies, until the knock on the door. It ended with her holding her mother, mourning a father she never knew. Even though she didn't know the man in his life, Talia Josephine is determined to get to know all about Kurt Wagner in his death.


**A/N: So I have written under MANY pseudonyms in the past, and under one of them I wrote a story that this one will roughly be based around.**

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Her earliest memory was a fun one. While she had always been up to no good, she had always tried to get away with more as a child. It was a month before her second birthday at her grandparents' house, a fourth of July celebration. Her mother typically kept a close eye on her, but at that exact moment, she became distracted with something in the kitchen. Her grandmother was laughing, and she took the opportunity to race out the open back door. Her grandfather had his back turned to her, facing the grill as he hummed. Letting her little feet carry herself over the porch, she lunged for the pool. Flinging herself towards a lone flotation device, she clutched the plastic as she glided across the water. She could hear her mother's scream; she knew herself that if she fell off she would drown. She couldn't swim, but that wasn't the point. It was the adrenaline rush, the bleached water spraying into her face, the rush that she got as she was midair. She was too young at the time to know it by those terms, but she was a thrill seeker.

When her mother got their first apartment a couple years later, she had been very lucky. There was a large oak in the playground, which she scaled very quickly. Her mother's scolding did nothing as she clung to the thin branches, letting her bare toes hold onto the limbs. Although she felt bad for scaring her, she remembered the words she lashed out to her. If she was really that afraid, then she should just leave. At least it made her mother chuckle.

Her mother was not laughing though as she was called to the principal's office when she was nine. Despite her thin and lithe figure, despite being short for her age, she was incredibly agile. She had made many friends, but that was not the issue. If one of the boys would pick on one of the girls, she would beat them up. Automatically, this made the girls in her classroom want to be close, and the boys respected her presence. But the principle stated that she could not go around dishing out punishment to whoever she wanted. If she did not pull her act together, the school would have to take appropriate measures.

It was when she started her freshman year at Bayville High School that she found her love for anything related to gymnastics. And while BHS itself did not have a specific program, she excelled at cheerleading. The flips, balances, handstands, somersaults, and tosses put her at the top of the physical pyramid. It was her mother's alma mater, but it was something she rarely spoke about. It was there that her mother met her father, a foreign exchange student. They went to the Sadie Hawkins' dance together, and they just seemed to click. When he came to visit her parents, however, a mutant from the school that had a grudge on him attacked him in the kitchen. The scuffle left a bad taste in her parents' mouths, and she was forbidden to see him again. She continued though, up until the catastrophe that was Apocalypse. He became a horror story told to children, a murderer of millions.

It was there that the story became fuzzy. Her mother would tell her different stories, depending on how old she was. His parents were nervous with him so far away, and brought him back to their country. They just decided it wouldn't work. Her parents found out that they were still together, and ended their relationship for good. There were so many variants, she never knew what was the truth. Her grandparents were more tight lipped than her mother, but as she reached her teens, she realized that she was stepping on the same ground that he did.

It took a while, but she eventually found a copy of her mother's yearbook from that year. There had to be a picture of them together somewhere, hidden in the old pages. But when she did find it, she only faced disappointment. Her mother had taken a permanent marker to the young man's face and name. The only thing exposed was a little of his hair. It was the same color as hers, so black it seemed indigo. She knew she had to have some- if not most- of his features. Her grandfather's family were African-American, and her grandmother's was from Romania. Her mother was a beautiful blend of both cultures, but she looked very little like them. With deep blue eyes and a light tan, she stood out. She wondered if that was why she wondered what her father looked like. Because she did not share the same appearances as her family, it had to come from some where.

For all these memories, all of these precious moments, she wished she could forget it all. If it meant her mother would stop crying, if it would relieve her pain.

It had been a normal Saturday morning, up until a knock on the door. She answered, surprised by the red head. She was intimidating, with pointed features, despite the soft look on her face. She wore black slacks and a dark button up, which clashed against her pale skin. A tall, grim looking man stood beside her, red sunglasses covering his eyes. He was also in black pants, a gray shirt underneath his suit jacket.

"Is Ms. Sefton available?" The woman asked, although it seemed like she already knew the answer.

Just on cue, her mother walked around the corner, a surprised look on her face. "Oh my... Oh my God. Uh... Jean Grey? Scott... Summers? Is that you?"

"I'm afraid so," The man nodded, and her mother let them through the door. "We need to speak. In private, Ms. Sefton."

With just a look from her mother, she knew to leave to her room. But the names, she knew them. Everybody knew them. Scott Summers and Jean Grey were professors at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. It was the mutie school in Bayville, where all the mutants in the world would flock to. And somehow... somehow her mother knew them.

At first, she felt a lump in her throat. It was spoken that they had a machine that could sniff out muties. The only logical conclusion was that she was one. Why else would they be here?

The choke in her mother's voice only confirmed it. But as she peaked around the corner, she saw Ms. Grey holding her mother, and both of them were crying. Even Mr. Summers, for all of his military presence, seemed broken. Minutes passed before her mother pulled away. The other two excused themselves, but she heard their single comment. "We'll see you tomorrow, Amanda."

As they stepped out the door, her mother stayed on the couch, taking in a deep breath. "You can come away from the hall, Tia."

Stepping out, she rushed to her. "Mom, what is going on? Why will we be seeing them tomorrow?"

Shaking, her mother breathed slowly. "Tia, listen to me very carefully, and please try to understand. It is... it's about your father," Before Tia could speak, her mother held up her hand. "Your father was... Was one of them."

Tia had no words. Her father? A mutant? "Was?"

Looking her daughter in the eye, Amanda forced a weak smile. "They are heroes. They keep people... like Erik Lehnsherr, Apocalypse, and others from hurting people like us. It's dangerous... And sometimes sacrifices are made."

"Oh God..." Tia blinked. "He died?" She didn't mean to blurt it out like that. It just came out.

All Amanda could do was nod. And as tears began dripping down her cheeks again, Tia held her. She held her and mourned for the father she never knew.


End file.
